


More Than A Feeling

by itsmorethanfine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angsty Schmoop, M/M, Universe Alteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 02:06:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2370449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmorethanfine/pseuds/itsmorethanfine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas and Dean's relationship takes a turn, in the literal and figurative sense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than A Feeling

After years and years of awkward flirtation, subtle sexual innuendos and not to mention the long, over-the-top eye sex, Dean had finally gathered the courage to ask the angel out on a date. Though it had taken Cas a few weeks to grasp the concept of a date, Dean couldn’t have been a happier man.

Combine the numerous dates with kisses enough to fill all 4 seasons and sex to make even porn stars jealous, Dean and Cas had finally gotten married on November 2nd, 2016. Cas had looked stunning in a suit and tie and Dean wanted nothing but to have him all to himself in the bedroom. Sam wasn’t the only one that had cried at their wedding, Charlie had, too. Not to mention, Dean himself had. He cursed himself even to this day about bursting into tears when Cas had said “I do.”

Though Cas had been an angel before they had gotten married, he had chosen to give up his grace, which had made Dean was wary.

“Cas, are you sure?” he’d asked, over and over again, just to make sure.

“I do not wish to live a lonely life without you, Dean Winchester. We are together in life and death,” Cas had replied, pressing his lips to Dean’s. And he was slightly comforted.

Dean still kept hunting, Cas replacing Sam, after the latter had chosen to settle down. After months of careful practice, Cas could shoot a gun almost as well as Dean could. And so, he took him on hunts. The two never tired of life on the road because they had each other.

It had all started when Dean had suggested hunting the vamp nests down by Arizona. And so, they’d taken off, classic rock music blaring through the speakers, weapons rattling in the trunk and the fresh wind whipping at their faces.

It was getting dark, but the only way they would get there would be to drive through the night. He had taken enough coffee to keep him up all night. Besides, if he was too sleepy to keep driving, he at least had the common sense to stop driving and pull over.

“Dean,” Cas called from beside him.

“Hmm?” he asked, glancing over at his husband’s face. He’d never tire of the numerous crinkles on his face, the blue of his eyes or even the curve of his stupid nose.

“I would like to stretch my legs,” he said, sounding slightly exhausted. Dean stifled a chuckle. Though Cas had been human for a good 4 ish years, he still wasn’t used to the sore muscles and other human activities, like peeing and eating.

“Okay, Cas,” he smiled, “I’ll pull over when I see a rest stop.”

“Mmm,” Cas mumbled sleepily from beside him. He unbuckled his seatbelt and moved closer to Dean, snuggling against him.

“Someone’s tired.” Dean ran his fingers through Cas’ soft hair, his fingertips brushing his scalp. Cas made a sound close to a moan.

“You like that?” Dean’s voice softened as Cas leaned into his touch.

“Mmm.”

“You’re going to like a lot more when we find time, babe.”

Cas almost giggled, as he adjusted himself against Dean.

Boston’s “More than a Feeling” floated through the speakers and Dean laughed.

Cas looked up at him, his blue eyes practically gleaming in the dark. He sat up, resting his head against Dean’s shoulder. “It’s our song, Dean.”

And so, it was. It had been the first song that had ever played when they’d gone on their first traditional date for coffee. And since then, it had been a ritual to listen to it whenever they found time to themselves.

Not to mention, it had been one of Cas’ favorite songs. The first one that he had genuinely liked before Dean had directly introduced him to Boston. The band had been on Dean’s top 10 list, but he’d barely gotten through Black Sabbath, when the song had happened, bringing the biggest smile to Cas’ face that it almost made Dean’s cheeks fall off.

“Till I see Marianne walk away,” Cas’ voice distracted him from his thoughts and Dean smiled. He leaned over, kissed Cas on the top of his head and he hummed with pleasure.

“I love you, Cas.”

Cas lifted his head off Dean’s shoulder and kissed Dean’s cheek once. Dean smiled. And then Cas placed another kiss right next to the last one.

“Two kisses, wow--” Dean started, when Cas kissed him a third time. He reached over, his fingers wrapping around the side of Dean’s face.

“Cas, you know I can’t look at you when I’m driving,” he protested. The kisses were like torture, he wanted to kiss Cas back, but he couldn’t. Cas kissed him again.

“I know.”

Dean sat up straighter as Cas kissed him a fifth time and he realized what he was doing. “Cas,” he said, his voice soft with happiness.

“Hmm?” he asked, planting another kiss.

“Stop.”

“No,” Cas retorted, kissing his ear.

“Cas, I—whoa,” he gasped, as Cas caught his ear between his teeth, tugging slightly.

“What were you saying, Dean?” Cas asked, in between the flurry of kisses. He was working on Dean’s neck now. He grabbed a little bit of skin and pulled slightly. That was sure to leave a mark the next morning. Dean inhaled sharply.

“No-nothing, Cas.” Dean said, his stomach fluttering with the millions of butterflies. Cas could still make him this nervous even after all the time. It was like a first kiss every time.

Cas purred in agreement, returning back to Dean’s face. “No amount of kisses will ever be enough to tell you how much I love you, Dean.”

Dean smiled, the corners of his mouth digging painfully into the sides of his face. Give it to Cas to make everything disgustingly romantic. The guy could probably pull a candlelight dinner out of his ass if he understood the references.

They whizzed by a rest stop sign, indicating that they were a mile away. Cas was still kissing him in between intervals, the softness of his lips were very distracting.

 “Only a mile more, baby,” Dean muttered. “And then, it’s my turn.”

Cas laughed, kissing him for longer, mushing his nose against Dean’s cheek. He reached above and kissed Dean’s temple, before moving up and fixing another kiss at the place where his hair gave way to his forehead.

Dean flicked on the right indicator, changing lanes and took the next exit. “Almost there, Cas.”

Cas chuckled softly, kissing him more.

The rest area was so close, he could practically feel the adrenaline running through his body as the thought of finally kissing Cas drew closer.

And then suddenly, on the one-way road, a set of headlights gleamed at him from the dark. The car drew closer and closer, picking up speed with each millisecond.

“Shit--” he swore, trying to swerve the Impala away from the vehicle that was approaching them, but the last thing Dean saw was Cas’ terrified face and he felt Cas’ grip around his arm tighten, before the car hit them head on, and everything collapsed into darkness.

_________________________

Dean awoke with a bad throbbing in his head in an excessively bright place, the lights boring holes into his soul. A beeping came from behind him, making his head hurt even more. He squinted to see where he was, eyeing the tubes sticking out of his body. He jumped, and felt a sharp pain shoot up the side of his body. He gasped in pain and clutched at his side.

“Dean?”

A doctor, probably in his mid-30’s stood at the door. “Don’t move. You are only going to hurt yourself more.”

“Where the hell am I?”

“St. John’s Medical Center. You were in a terrible accident about a few miles down the highway, horrible case of drunk driving on the other side, and you were rushed here.”

And then suddenly, the dark images and vivid memories from last night came flooding back to him. Cas beside him, Cas’ arm through his, Cas kissing him over and over again, him wanting to kiss Cas back, _Cas, Cas, Cas._

“Where’s Cas?” he choked, looking around the room and seeing no one but him.

“Castiel?”

“ _Yes,_ the little dorky dude with the bright blue eyes. Where is he?” The fear was spreading, bringing him down, and tightening his chest uncomfortably. If something had happened to Cas, he would never forgive himself.

The doctor hesitated. “Well, Castiel, is, well--”

Dean’s eyes fluttered shut, his heart slowing. “Dead, isn’t he?”

“Well, not quite.”

Dean’s eyes shot open. “Where is he? Can I see him? Is he okay?”

Fifteen minutes later, after convincing the doctor that he was okay and that he wanted to see Cas, Dean found himself in a wheelchair on the way to Cas’ ward.

The doctor still refused to tell him what had happened. But, at least Cas was alive, right?

They stopped in front of two translucent doors, with the tiny peep holes on the top, so that someone could look in. Dean looked up at the nurse.

“Well, why aren’t we going in?”

“Honey, I really don’t think you should,” she said, tears practically forming in her eyes.

“I need to see him. He’s my husband!”

The nurse took a deep breath and nodded.

“Why? Is he that bad? Why isn’t anyone telling me about this? What the _fuck_ happened?” The anger was bursting out of him, filling every fiber of his being. No one hurt Cas, no one. Especially not some stupid drunk driver that had no goal in life.

The doors swung open and Dean saw rows of beds full of comatose patients, all hooked up to a billion catheters and glucose drips.

Okay, so Cas was unconscious. No big deal, he’d wake up, right?

At the end of the row, he saw the love of his life, unconscious, numerous tubes sticking out of his arm. He had a huge bandage around his forehead.

Dean just stared, as the nurse wheeled him closer. Cas’ beautiful face was now painted with a bruises of all colors, cuts covering his cheek and his arms.

“Cas?” his voice shook slightly. He turned back to the nurse, grabbing her hand in desperation. “How long until he wakes up?”

“I’m not sure, sweetheart. You should talk to the doctor about that. I think he should be here soon. I’ll give you two some alone time.” She squeezed his hand and then reached for his shoulder and walked away. Dean turned back to Cas, gazing at him.

How could he have been so stupid? He should have acted faster, hadn’t hunting taught him anything about reflexes?

He reached for Cas’ hand. The usually warm and alive hand was now slightly cold, but Dean only held it tighter.

“Cas, please. Wake up for me. You can do this, baby.” His voice wouldn’t come out louder than whispers; he hadn’t felt this broken in a long, long time.

He thought he’d finally found the _happiness_ he’d been searching for.

“Cas, please. I’ll kiss you as much as you want me to. Please. Don’t leave me.” The tears were flowing visibly down his cheeks now, disappearing into the bed sheet below him.

But, Cas didn’t respond. The heart monitor beside only beeped every second.

He sat there for another ten minutes or so, crying his eyes out, willing Cas to come back to him, when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

It was the doctor.

“What’s wrong with him? Please tell me, he’s okay. Please.”

“Well, son, he’s stable. But, he’s not.. okay. By your standards.”

“What’s wrong with him?” The lump in Dean’s throat only grew bigger.

“He won’t wake.”

Dean laughed nervously through his tears. “Stop joking around here, doc. He means the world to me, please.”

The doctor just smiled sympathetically at him.

“You’re serious?” Dean asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“It’s just, the accident left his brain so severely damaged, he’s essentially brain-dead.”

“What the hell does that even mean? He’s breathing, isn’t he? And his heart’s pumping blood, so how in the hell is he doing that if his brain doesn’t work?”

The doctor sighed. “This might be a little hard for you to understand, Dean. We should talk about it later.”

“No, I want to know what happened to him. Now.”

“Brain-dead meaning, his organs and other parts are still functioning, but it’s just the brain isn’t there to control it for him because it won’t work anymore.”

“But, he’s still _breathing_.”

“He’s not exactly breathing. The blood is pumping through his body because of life-support.”

And then, suddenly, something inside Dean broke, and all he wanted to do was to scream and scream about how unfair it was. How he should’ve just kissed Cas when he’d had the chance. How he should’ve told Cas that he loved him more times than he had. How he should’ve asked Cas out and gotten married sooner so that they would’ve had longer together. How he should’ve convinced Cas to keep his grace, so that he would still be alive.

How all he wanted was for Cas to wake up and tell him that he would always be there for him.

_Till I watched my Marianne walk away._

But, he couldn’t scream. In fact, he couldn’t say anything at all. All he could was just sit there and take in all the pain, soak it all up, make those fault lines in him break open again, after they’d been so carefully put together by someone who had loved him for who he was.

Whose every touch had felt magical, whose every breath had been awakening, and whose very existence had made the shattered man feel whole again.  And after the little bit of happiness they’d shared, it was all snatched away in a split second.

And he couldn’t do anything about it.

“Can you give us a minute?” Dean croaked, his voice thick with sorrow.

The doctor nodded, gently squeezing his shoulder and stepping away.

Dean stood up, wincing at the pain. But, he bent over his husband’s body and leaned in really close, so close his nose was almost touching Cas’.

“I counted, Cas,” he whispered. ‘I counted how many times you kissed me in the car. 48 kisses,” he choked, sniffling, wiping the tears from his face. “When we pulled into that rest stop, I was going to kiss you 49 times. Just so that you would know that I loved you so much. And that I would never stop loving you.”

He paused, shuddering as he took a painful breath. It hurt mentally more than physically because the idea of breathing without Cas just made him hate himself even more.

“I’m not going to give you all those kisses back, Cas. You know why? Because I want you to wake up and ask me for them. You can fight through this, baby. I know you can. Please, just, don’t leave me here. I need you.” By the time, he said ‘you’, the shivers and the tears wracked his body and he openly sobbed, resting his forehead against Cas’.

_**A few years later…** _

An old Chevy Impala was parked in the driveway, gleaming like it was new. No one would have guessed that there had been a huge dent on the passenger side or that all the windows had been smashed in a terrible accident. The owner had taken care of it like his life had depended on it, spending hours and hours in the garage behind his house.

He was sitting on the rocking chair in front of his shack, eyes fixated upon the mountain ranges in front of him, waiting for the clock to tick to noon. His once bright green eyes had been so full of light, but they had lost their luster, almost dead-looking to anyone that noticed.

_So many people have come and gone  
Their faces fade as the years go by_

The worry lines on his face had hardened, almost becoming a part of who he had been after everything that happened to him. He barely smiled. He never turned on the radio anymore. He never went on hunts anymore. He never even sang anymore. To scrape by, all he did were a few odd jobs around town, so that he’d have enough money to pay the hospital back. In his other free time, he spent drinking his nights away at the bar.

 But, worst of all, he never drove that Chevy Impala, even though he’d spent a lot of his time restoring it back to its former glory. Even though, driving it was probably the only thing that would ever give him joy in his lonely life.  Nor did he want to sell it. The beauty had earned quite a reputation around the surrounding towns, but he would never sell it. Not when it still meant so much to him.

_Yet I still recall as I wander on  
As clear as the sun in the summer sky_

Every morning, like ritual, he’d walk over to hospital, where his husband lay sleeping, lost to the world. He hadn’t wanted the doctors to cut the life support, so he’d still have Cas to stick around. Unconscious or not. He would slip his hand into his husband’s, bite back the desire to kiss his forehead, force the tears back and just look at him, silently willing him to wake up.

No one knew that the only reason he kept going was because he knew that Castiel was going to come back to him, returning for those lost 49 kisses.

_It's more than a feeling, when I hear that old song they used to play._


End file.
